


Those Left Behind

by Galahard



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Eggsy/OFC slightly (read synopsis), F/M, Harry/OFC is in the past and has no PDA, Light Hartwin, M/M, Soulmates, Trying to overcome writer's block
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 08:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11574453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galahard/pseuds/Galahard
Summary: Kingsman chooses it's recruits from those who have already lost their soulmates, because they have nothing else to lose.





	Those Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Note: So I started this earlier this week, then got hit by the flood that is SDCC. I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for months, and started trying to think of a new take on my favorite AU/trope, soulmates, when this hit me, and I decided to force my muse to work. I apologize that it’s not anywhere near my best work, but mostly I’m glad that I was able to write something again~

He felt foolish as nerves flooded through him, even as the girl working the desk glanced up from her screen and flashed him an understanding smile. “Sometimes this part takes a moment, there are a lot of images for the system to scan through. You can have a seat if you’d like.”

“No thanks,” Eggsy muttered, shoving his hands into his jacket pocket to stop himself from thrumming his fingers across the counter top. He’d waited long enough by this point, unable to make it to the agency until a full week after his 18th birthday. There was always the possibility that his soulmate’s records wouldn’t even be available yet if they were younger than him, but something in him whispered that his soulmate would be older. So for now he clung to the hope that he wouldn’t leave empty-handed, but with a name. 

An expression he couldn’t quite identify flashed across the girl’s face in front of him, and he’d learned enough sleight of hand from pickpocketing to catch her pressing a small button off to the side as she took a moment before speaking to him.

“Well, we do have information for you, but I’m afraid I cannot pass it on to you directly. If you can wait just one more moment Dr. Sanderson will be able to assist you.”

\-------

He’d been saving up for months, which was easier said than done with the piece of shit his mum called her boyfriend living with them. Any money Dean saw him with was liable to be confiscated for “rent.”

The fee to pull your soulmate’s records was nominal, in place to help fund the department but designed so that it wouldn’t be a burden and therefore accessible to everyone, but he’d wanted more than that. He’d wanted enough money so that when he left the agency he’d be able to take his soulmate out on a proper date. Even with his birthday money he knew he wouldn’t be able to afford anywhere posh, but if his soulmate would accept him, hopefully they’d also accept a restaurant that was merely decent; a step up from takeaway or a couple pints.

He hadn’t expected to be spending that carefully hoarded money on a train ticket out to the countryside. He’d stopped at the first liquor store he came across and bought the cheapest fifth of whisky he could find, cracking it open and taking a swig as he pushed open the door and kept walking.

The return ticket was resting safely in his pocket, so the last of his money was spent at the florist, who was kind enough to give him a larger bouquet than he could afford after he requested directions to the cemetery.

Outside the traffic was beginning to pick up as people got off work and moved on with their lives, blissfully unaware of the turmoil rolling through him as he followed the scribbled down directions.

It was summer, so the sun was still shining as he found the cemetery and began to wander, eyes skimming names quickly. It still took the better part of an hour before he stumbled to a halt, staring at the elegant stone in front of him. 

_Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison_

_January 17th 1967 - November 1st 1994_

He set the bottle down on the ground and pulled a crumpled paper out of his pocket, the only one Dr. Sanderson had handed him that he’d kept, all of the pamphlets somewhere in a bin back in London. The name and dates matched perfectly, as he already knew they would, but finally he let his eyes drift over to the picture smiling back at him from the wrinkled piece of paper.

“This isn’t how I thought our first meeting would go,” he mumbled at the auburn haired woman grinning back at him, the smile seemingly genuine despite it being a simple snapshot for a photo ID. “I figured the worst fucking thing would be if you just slammed the door in my face as soon as you took a look at me, I didn’t even consider a situation this shitty.”

For a minute he just stood there, unable or unwilling to move, before he stepped forward, crouching and placing the flowers awkwardly in front of the headstone. He wasn’t quite sure how things should be arranged, not used to laying flowers as his dad had been cremated

“Maybe,” his voice cracked and he cringed, even though there was no one about to see him as he stood at an almost 17 year old grave, “it’s better this way. I wasn’t expecting no cougar, and you seem real classy. You probably wouldn’t have known what to do with me, yeah?”

Now that his other hand was free there was nothing stopping from stuffing the paper back into his pocket, unable as he was to throw it away, and he stooped down to grab the still mostly full fifth of whisky from where he set it, tilting it back to take a long pull.

“Fuck.”

\--------

“Fuck.”

Eggsy tilted his head back, eyes closed, until his head bumped against the wall. His mum had been beside herself when he’d rang to let her know he probably wasn’t going to make it home. Dean was probably celebrating by now, he’d been saying for several years that Eggsy’d find himself in prison sooner rather than later, and while technically he was only in a holding cell it still pained him to prove his step-father right. 

Stupid fucking fox.

“Unwin.” The name was practically barked, but he took his time and stretched before rolling up and onto his feet, cracking his neck for good measure. God, it was probably going to be so fucking boring in jail.

“You’re out of here.” The policeman was scowling and casting suspicious glances until he all but shoved Eggsy out the doors after he’d collected his personal belongings.

He couldn’t resist glancing behind him in case the cop changed his mind, and then he moved forward quickly, halfway down the stairs before a voice stopped him. 

“Mr. Unwin. Would you like a lift home?”

“Who’re you?”

“The man who got you released.”

“Not hearing an answer.”

“A little gratitude would be nice. My name is Harry Hart.”

“So what?” He was looking at the man carefully now, not entirely sure why he was there and certainly not why he’d bother getting him released. He didn’t even know how this “Harry Hart” fellow knew he was locked up. But other than discerning that the man knew how to wear a suit (and well) and that he had a posh sort of voice, he couldn’t figure much out. “I ain’t no charity case.”

“Excellent, because that is not why I am here.”

Harry Hart took a step away from the wall and started down the stairs, not bothering to see if Eggsy was following him but probably knowing that he’d caught his attention.

“As things stand, my employer is rather intrigued by you Mr. Unwin.”

“Eggsy.”

“Alright, Eggsy then. We have had you in our system for a few years, keeping an eye out for suitable candidates for a particular job, and despite your rather peculiar record we think you may be up to the challenge.”

“Look, I ain’t sure what the fuck it is you think you know about me, but I ain’t some common criminal, yeah? Just because you lot got me out of a bit of a bind don’t mean I owe you nothing, and if that’s what this is you can just march me straight back to the damn coppers.”

Now the posh bugger bothered to turn to glance back at him, a smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Don’t worry, we have no use for a thief that gets himself caught as quickly as you managed to. However, the job is a rather delicate one, and I’d prefer not to talk about it on the street. Now then, if I recall correctly there is a pub around here? Perhaps we could speak there.”

There was absolutely no reason to go along with this nonsense, but there was little enough going on in his life to turn down a possible free pint. “Why the fuck not,” Eggsy muttered before bursting into a jog, no longer willing to chase after the back of the man in front of him. “Black Prince ain’t too far,” he found himself offering as he caught up to him and slowed back down to match his pace.

Why the fuck not.

\--------

The plane was on autopilot, returning them from Valentine’s base to the chaos of HQ, and Merlin was already turning them into ghosts.

It had all been explained before they’d become candidates. Kingsman kept tabs on those who lost their soulmates prematurely in some form or fashion. Merlin had a program that plucked names from the soulmate registries, and then his algorithms that then collected data on those individuals. They already knew that these people were the ones that no longer had anything left to lose, but they were looking for potential, those that still threw themselves into the challenge of life, and thrived despite adversity. Apparently dropping out of the Marines hadn’t disqualified him, and when it was time to propose a new Lancelot, and he’d been in a convenient holding cell, Harry had selected his file and gone to collect him.

Sure, Roxy had the title, but with the loss of Arthur, Galahad, and apparently Bors and Kay, Merlin was already taking steps to make him a full agent.

The tech guru explained a bit of the process as the two newest Kingsman watched their past selves vanish. Gone were the records of them in the soulmate registry, completely wiped. Their driver’s license information was rerouted, so that anyone attempting to run their registration would be redirected to Merlin, who could overwrite anything in a moment’s notice. A local newspaper article about his early gymnastics success vanished before his eyes, as did one of Roxy winning an equestrian award when she was 14 and smiling awkwardly around braces.

For Eggsy it was surreal. He’d known since he was 18 that he’d never be a complete person, but now his identity was being stripped away with the click of a button. It was peculiar to know that now the only people that knew his mark was his own mother and his doctor, otherwise he might as well have been one of the unfortunates, those born without a mark entirely.

For a split second his mind flashed to Elizabeth, the image of her quick smile and auburn hair imprinted in his mind. She would have known exactly what that small mark on the inside of her thigh, just above her knee, looked like. The slight curves and pointed edge, the tiny half circle right in the middle. She’d probably traced it herself, countless times, wondering why no one had shown up in the registry for her. All he knew was she’d died in a car accident, something involving a deer and driving too fast, but would she have been driving that fast if--

There was an arm wrapping around his waist, and Roxy leaned her head against his shoulder wordlessly. Whether it was for herself or for him was up for debate, but then the radio crackled, a familiar voice filling the cabin. 

“Merlin, do you read me? I could use a lift home.”

Something he didn’t know was there loosened in his chest as Merlin visibly swallowed before answering back. “Loud and clear Galahad. I’ll arrange transport.”

\--------

No one actually celebrated new agents. There was always the risk that they wouldn’t make it out alive from their first mission, and no one wanted to get attached too easily. But Harry still made the time to invite him over for dinner.

The man had changed in Kentucky. There was just something off, something different. A hint of wildness that couldn’t quite be concealed despite all of Harry’s careful mannerisms. Before the Church Harry had been a perfect candidate for the next Arthur. Now he wasn’t even an option, and Merlin had already taken Eggsy aside and murmured that for a few missions at least they’d be partnered, more for Harry’s benefit than his own. Not even Merlin fully trusted Harry right now, and that was something Eggsy was struggling to come to terms with. It was still Harry, and even if there were a few moments of uncertainty he was the most trustworthy bloke Eggsy knew. He’d trust him with his life, so he had no problems going on missions with him. 

“I had already accepted that I would never see you as an agent,” Harry said as he poured a measure of whisky into a two tumblers, tone light and conversational, skirting around the fight they’d had before he’d left. Before Eggsy had watched him get shot in the head, his left eye still bandaged in proof. “So this is an auspicious day, wouldn’t you say Sir Kay? The need for additional agents is never a good thing, but you had too much potential for us to lose you.”

“I still think that final test was fucked up,” Eggsy replied stubbornly, but he still raised his glass, at Harry’s salute, watching for a moment as his mentor tipped the glass back and swallowed before quickly downing his own. “But even after all that shit with Valentine Merlin wants me to have fucking training wheels.” He snorted, hoping Harry wouldn’t pick up on the lie. Their partnership wouldn’t be for him. “Still, ain’t no one I’d rather learn from,” he admitted as he set the tumbler back down.

“It makes far more sense than just tossing you out there on your own,” Harry admitted. “They did that to me, and obviously I survived, but there were others not as fortunate. That is the primary problem of recruiting those with nothing left to lose. Too many of us are willing to throw absolutely everything into the job. I remember the previous Gaheris did not survive his third mission, but he did successfully bring down a child trafficking ring.”

Harry didn’t look up, just reached for the decanter and poured himself a sloppy measure of whisky, a good bit more than the last one, but Eggsy did nothing to stop him or slow him down. He recognized that look, and he hated seeing it on Harry’s face, the lines of grief were even more deeply etched on his face than Eggsy had ever seen them on his own, but then again, Harry had probably met his soulmate. The Gaheris of old probably had too, had probably felt his soulmate being taken from him. Had probably been happy to finally join them. Perhaps that was why Harry seemed off now that he’d returned from Kentucky. It was entirely possible that he’d thought he’d finally get to join his soulmate, and yet somehow he’d lived, and been brought back to them to continue what existence he had, half of a whole that would be broken so long as he lived.

And yet something inside him preferred this. Preferred looking up from his plate to see Harry with a caged look in his eye, knowing that Harry was still here with him, broken as he was.

\--------

“Merlin, we needed that extraction team 17 minutes ago.”

Harry’s voice snapped harsher than Eggsy could ever remember hearing it, and while it was difficult to focus on the words he knew Harry was overreacting. They’d cleared the warehouse, there was no one left. All 19 opponents were down, dead or unconscious and bound hand and foot. So one of them had gotten a lucky shot in on his arm. Honestly, that bit sucked, but while it was bleeding pretty good he was pretty sure the artery was fine. He just happened to have a hole in his arm. Of course he’d bleed.

Harry had already wrapped a tourniquet around his arm a couple of minutes ago, slowing the ooze of blood, and he was sitting on the roof with the older man, waiting for their helicopter that was who-the-fuck-knew where, but otherwise everything was over and done with. Nothing too major. They had this. Just like they had for the past several missions.

“Eggsy?” He could feel Harry’s hand patting his face, slightly harder than he appreciated. “Eggsy I need you to stay with me. I need you to stay awake.”

He blinked slowly, trying to force Harry into focus. Right, stay awake. Good plan, but not quite as good as sleep. Harry was running his hand through his hair, which was probably not part of his good plan, because he was probably leaving streaks of blood in between the locks, either Eggsy’s own or someone else’s. Honestly, at this point it was anyone’s guess. 

There was a moment where Harry looked uncertain, but then he settled down into a loose sprawl next to him, knees partially drawn up so his feet were still planted on the ground, just in case he needed to get up quickly. “Eggsy, have I ever told you about the first time I went snowboarding?”

Eggsy waited for him to continue, but there was only silence, and he realized Harry was watching him, waiting for an answer. His tongue felt heavy, but he managed to open his mouth, mumbling out a soft “No.”

Harry nodded, but flicked his gaze away, staring into the distance, eyes going unfocused as he began to speak, his voice low and steady.

“It was all Lyn’s idea. In 1987 everything was white. Just when you’d think the roads would be clear it’d snow again, and it was brutally cold. On one of the days before the next storm blew in Lyn managed to drag me out to the lodge her family had frequented when she was growing up. I thought it was a last minute decision, but when we got there they were expecting us, and I found out our vacation had actually been planned for months. That was Lyn for you, she’d suggest something that sounded like she’d made it up on the spot, but she’d already know everything about it.”

Harry’s voice was filled with fondness, and Eggsy found himself trying to even breathe quietly, not wanting to distract him.

“Snowboards weren’t precisely new, but they were beginning to gain popularity. Apparently she’d called ahead and had them order in a couple so they’d be a surprise when we got there. I can still remember walking out of the lodge carrying that contraption, and the look on the ski instructors faces were absolutely horrified. They were trying to keep us from getting on the ski lift, but Lyn just had a way about her. Most of the time she’d convince someone it was their own suggestion to give in to what she wanted, she could make the most outrageous demands and they’d be met with a smile. Hell, even I was going along with it, and I had no clue what I was doing.

“It all went fairly well actually, until we got to the top of the slope. It was just the beginner one, we had no interest in pretending to be better than we were, but it was too late to back out by then. 

“There are some people that think snowboarding and skiing are relatively similar. Your feet are strapped down, you’re on snow, and you’re going down a hill. In fact, those are the only similarities. Lyn had at least looked into it a bit, and knew a few of the basic concepts, but I was clueless. I was in my twenties, so I was relatively fit, but it was nothing like I was expecting. We finally maneuvered to the slope and started down, and I figured out pretty much immediately I had no control. Lyn passed me, laughing and telling me to bend my knees, which was all well and good, but I was headed straight for a tree and couldn’t get the damn thing to swerve to save my soul.

“In the end the only thing I could do was sit down and then try to scoot sideways to get out of the tree’s path. The entire way down the hill was me getting the board going, and when it started to pick up speed sitting down so I wouldn’t get too out of control. Lyn was in tears by the time I got to the bottom of the hill. She helped me undo the straps and then insisted I go in to have a hot cuppa and warm up.”

There was a moment of silence then, Harry either lost in the tale or finished with it, but Eggsy was awake now, not struggling to keep his eyes open.

“What about Lyn, she go in with you?”

Harry snorted, shaking his head gently. “Hardly. As soon as I was squared away she headed over to the lift. We were only there for a long weekend, but by the third day she was taking the hardest routes and using my snowboard to teach anyone that was interested. She even managed to sway one of the ski instructors. Wound up leaving the boards with him when we headed home, but we got free rentals there any time we went back.”

Harry fell silent again, but this time Eggsy got the feeling that it wouldn’t be good to break the silence, not matter how tempted he was. He wanted Harry to keep talking, curious about Lyn but also fascinated by finding out more about the man beside him. Thankfully the telltale sound of a helicopter reached his ears before he could make a fool out of himself. Harry stood, back in business mode, then reached down to help him up, slinging an arm around his back to support him as the helicopter landed and they made their way over, a medic jumping down to help him aboard.

\--------

Harry hadn’t talked about Lyn since. There had been several more missions, with a staggering success rate that meant no one was keen to separate them, but she simply hadn’t come up. In fact, it was as if Harry had forgotten that he’d told him that story entirely. It was over a month later that he mentioned her again, and this time their circumstances were rather unusual.

For once, they’d been captured. Oh, it was nothing dire. In fact it fit into Eggsy’s plan rather nicely, even if Harry had hissed that he was being rash when he’d suggested it right before he’d proceeded to get them both caught by the goons patrolling the compound.

Really, it was the best way to get an audience with the actual leader of this little cult, and Eggsy had made up some nonsense about visions on the spot, ensuring that they’d at least get to meet him or her before they were killed.

He had this under control, already working at the sloppily tied rope holding his wrists together. Harry’s had been tied up proper, with knots Eggsy was frankly jealous of, but he’d be free of his own and able to work on Harry’s well before anyone came back for them, if their “guards” were to be believed.

He was almost finished pushing the rope through the knot when Harry began speaking.

“I haven’t been in Derby in over 30 years. Oh, I’ve been through, but I never bothered to stop.”

“Damn, 30 years? Course the better question is: why the fuck were you in Derby in the first place?”

“A concert, believe it or not. The Touch Tour, take five.”

The knot was unraveled, but he didn’t bother moving other than twisting his wrists a few times. Harry seemed to be in a talkative mood, and fuck if he was going to let that pass by. “Take five?”

“Take five.” There was almost a bit of pain in Harry’s voice at that, and when Eggsy twisted to glance behind him he could see the older man shaking his head.

“It was a Eurythmics tour. Oh, it started out innocently enough. Lyn liked their music well enough, always turning up the radio whenever they came on. We drove to a concert in Nottingham and it was okay. I had several drinks and we danced, and foolishly I thought that was it.

“Maybe two weeks later they put out a new album, and Lyn was already listening to it by the time I got home. I have no idea how many times she’d listened to it, but she was already starting to sing along. Two days later she had me in Leicaster. It wasn’t until the third concert that weekend that I started to worry. She swore on the drive to London that _Here comes the rain again_ spoke to her on another level. A deeper level,” Harry’s voice had taken on that fond quality again, despite the faint exasperation that was clearly evident, and Eggsy found himself relaxing, simply enjoying the story, grinning as he imagined Harry drug about to the various concerts, trying to picture him when he was in his late teens.

He hadn’t actually seen any pictures of Harry from back then, if the man had any they weren’t on display anywhere in his house that Eggsy had seen. Perhaps Merlin knew something. And since he had no fucking clue what Lyn looked like it was easier to imagine Harry. He could picture Harry’s face as he was pulled along into some nonsense or another, like the look on his face when he knew Eggsy was going to get them captured, and how his expression had smoothed into acceptance. Harry being startled into actually grinning, something Eggsy had only seen a few times. A young Harry dancing to Synthpop, with the woman that Eggsy was fairly certain was his soulmate. Carefree.

“By the end of it we’d been to six concerts in a month, and I had to talk her out of following them to New Zealand in February. She wasn’t thrilled about missing the concert, so one day I came home to find out that she’d cut and dyed her hair to match the cover of _Touch._ I thought her mother would have a heart attack when we went to Sunday dinner. She probably still blames me for it.

“I would pay a lot of money to not have to remember every single word of their earlier albums,” Harry added with a groan, and Eggsy let out a snort of laughter.

“I bet.” He was about to say more, but at that moment a door slammed somewhere near their vicinity, and just like that the easygoing mood was shattered. “You got your ropes undone or?”

“Please,” Harry scoffed, “I was free before you bothered untying the rope around your ankles. We’ll maintain our positions until we ensure that their leader is actually here though. You focus on subduing him, I’ll take care of the rest.”

And just like that they were back in business, eager to maintain their near perfect record.

\-------

He should have known better than to take a break for tea with Roxy. She was far more perceptive than she had any right to be.

 

“You’ve got that look again, penny for your thoughts?” One perfectly groomed eyebrow was arched at him as she took a sip of her tea, and not for the first time he wondered how she managed to drink it without adding anything to it, not even a squeeze of lemon.

“I ain’t got no look,” he muttered, but they both knew he was putting on a front, and with a sigh he slumped back against the headboard, careful to not jar his neck. It wasn’t much, just whiplash and a concussion, but Merlin wanted him to take it easy for a day or two.

“It’s just, sometimes Harry tells these stories, alright? Normally when we’re up shit creek without a paddle. Pretty sure he just does it to distract me, but damn it works. Thing is, I’d fucking swear they’re about his soulmate. Don’t make sense otherwise. But I can’t fucking stop thinking about them.”

He was classy enough that he wasn’t going to spill all of those stories, and there was another part of him that flat out didn’t want to. That liked imagining that other than Harry he was the only one that knew about Lyn’s horse bolting, and how she’d emerged from the woods hours later with mud splattered up to her neck, swearing Harry into silence as he kept look out while she rinsed off in the horse trough. He’d had to suppress laughter as Harry told him about misdirecting one of the stable hands, shoulders shaking as he tried to keep up their surveillance on the Bulgarian diplomat.

Then there were the pranks she’d pulled on one of their mutual friends while they’d been in University, and the way that Harry’d actually helped that friend prank her back. All he could think of was the devious grin that had been on Harry’s face when he’d recalled Lyn emerging from the Dean’s office, face scarlet, but he just couldn’t picture Lyn’s face as she realized what had happened. Apparently she’d accepted the joke with grace, something Eggsy was absolutely certain he wouldn’t have been able to do, and both Harry and their friend, Rebecca, had helped Lyn with her punishment of cleaning off a wall coated in graffiti.

No, those were stories he was keeping to himself, but it was probably okay if he talked _about_ them. “I know it don’t make no fucking sense to want to hear stories about someone I ain’t never met. I got that. Still want more though. Can’t just fucking ask for more, you know?” He shrugged and glowered at his tea before taking a large drink, not really caring if he slurped.

For a moment Roxy mulled it over before shrugging. “I suppose the obvious explanation is that you’re fixated on these stories because they’re a part of Harry. I don’t know him nearly as well as you, but he’s more open with you than probably anyone but Merlin.” She set down her mug carefully before leaning forward a bit. “I’ve seen the two of you together, it would certainly make sense if you were interested in him.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel like this is all fucking better somehow?” Eggsy fought back the wave of hysteria that threatened to burst forth. “My soulmate was some old bird, and Harry’s was also female, and at least someone close to his damn age. And they’re both dead.”

Plus, her explanation didn’t quite ring true, and he wasn’t sure how to explain it to her so that she’d understand. It really wasn’t just Harry that he fixated on, but Lyn too. The more he heard about her, the more he wished he’d been able to meet her. It sounded like the 80s had been a real lark.

“Just because your soulmate is dead doesn’t mean you are,” Roxy said quietly, but her voice carried easily in the small room. “You still have options. In case you weren’t aware, Percival and the previous Lancelot were in a relationship. Lancelot was in our situation, he lost his soulmate before he found them.”

“And Percival?”

Roxy signed, twisting to glance at the door to make sure one had entered in the past couple of minutes. “His soulmate is still alive actually, the bloody wanker. He’s one of those religious types, the type that doesn’t accept bonds that are not male and female joined together. I don’t know exactly how he rejected him, but Percival found his way here somehow, and other than your record with Harry he’s the most successful agent that Kingsman has. You can have a life beyond your mark.”

“Yeah, but none of that changes the fact that Harry’s straight, and I’m supposed to be.” Because he wasn’t going to deny that he was, in some way, drawn to Harry, it’d just be a waste of time. Being with Harry was simple. Oh they argued, but then again life would be a fucking bore if everyone just agreed all the time.

Roxy set aside her cup of tea and settled back in her chair, lifting her feet up to rest them on his bed, legs crossed at her ankles. “If you like him then you should have figured out already that not everything is black and white. As far as you know this could go both ways, and I think you may as well take a risk. Sure, you can’t just go around prying into his past to hear stories about his soulmate, but there’s plenty you could be doing.”

“And with all this going on you’re not bothered by the fact that he’s over twice my age?”

Roxy shrugged. “Sounds like you might be, but wasn’t your soulmate a bit older than Harry?” A grin flitted across her face. “It seems to me like maybe you’re attracted to cougars. It’s not the type I’d have pegged you for, but now I can see it.”

Eggsy didn’t even bother to feel bad when his spare pillow smacked her squarely in the face, and then he proceeded to blatantly point out his injury to spare himself from retaliation (for now). But despite their chat not everything seemed to be quite as easy as she made it out to be, so for the time being he simply tucked aside her observations. He could deal with those later.

\---------

Things were different this time. In the past Harry’s stories had always been told by him in a relatively calm voice as he sought to distract or entertain Eggsy for some reason.

This time, Harry’s blood was oozing through Eggsy’s fingers as he pressed down on Harry’s stomach, desperately trying to staunch the blood flow. It was Harry that needed to stay awake this time, but it wasn’t like he had any stories to tell him. A visit to a gravesite wasn’t exactly an uplifting tale.

“You know, all this time and you still ain’t fucking told me how you and Lyn met.”

He wasn’t actually sure if it would work or not, but after a moment Harry closed his eye and gave a tiny nod. “I believe you may be right.”

 

Still there was a noticeable pause before Harry spoke again, the gap filled with Merlin assuring him that a medical evac was on it’s way.

“Lyn was a debutante, the proper sort. Her family was actually minor nobility, though they didn’t really have a title to speak of. They still had a nice estate though, and money. Money old enough that no one bothered to point out that she simply went by her name.”

Harry’s voice was soft, but it wasn’t like Eggsy was going anywhere soon as he applied pressure. “My mother forced me into attending a few blasted social events here and there, but we really hadn’t met. I was waiting outside, looking for the girl I was escorting in so we could be announced and then I could hit up the hopefully spiked punch, when Lyn swooped in.

“Back then, Lyn didn’t always think out her plans. All she was thinking about was the fact that her date had a crush on mine, and someone should let them be together. She’d sent them in together, then come to find me so she’d still have an escort.

“All in all, it wasn’t the riskiest thing she ever did, but judging by the way the room was shocked into silence at our appearance, it was a bigger deal than I’d realized.” There was a wry smile on his lips, but it sharpened into a grimace of pain quickly enough.

“My family was new money, and that meant that I was entirely unsuitable to be her escort. Everyone else knew it, I had no idea who she was, and to Lyn it simply didn’t matter. In fact, once people started reacting I think she was more determined to have fun than before.”

All of that sounded amazing, but what was even better were the flashing lights of an ambulance now visible as it rushed toward them. There was the tiniest twinge of guilt that even despite Harry’s predicament he was losing himself to this tale, but he didn’t have it in him to stop the older man from speaking.

“It was just so easy to get along with her. I hated those stuffy parties, but two hours into it she drug me off to the gardens, getting me alone so she could show me her mark. After that no one could deny that we were meant to be together, even though her parents were dismayed at which family I’d come from. They finally, and grudgingly, accepted me, deciding that there were people out there even more unsuitable than me, and we all know Lyn would have taken to them just as quickly. She never stood by that classist nonsense.”

Harry probably would have kept speaking, but the medics were tumbling out the back of the vehicle to take over, and as soon as others arrived on the scene he closed off. He did, however, open his eye again, meeting Eggsy’s before the medics brushed him out of the way.

\-------

He was obsessing.

He knew it, but there wasn’t much he could do about it. No matter what he tried to focus on, Harry’s words twisted through his brain. Every story, sure, but also every minute detail of those stories. 

He was even starting to dream about them. He could hear Lyn’s laughter in his mind, not some flighty little giggle but rather a deep belly, gasping for air sort of laugh. She probably touched Harry when he made her laugh, fingers dragging on his back or briefly lighting on his arm, little gestures that he longed to make himself. Most of his downtime was spent imagining those moments, and he was fairly certain he was starting to go mad.

Merlin actually made it worse.

The Scotsman had taken him aside while Harry was still in surgery, informing him that Harry never told those stories to anyone else (though of course Merlin knew of them, they were constantly monitored on missions after all), and cautioning him that if either of them seemed compromised they would have to be assigned separately. He knew he should have taken it as a warning, but instead Eggsy could only focus on the fact that Harry was opening up to him specifically.

Perhaps Roxy had a point. It seemed possible now that Harry had some sort of interest in him, but there was always the risk that he merely considered Eggsy his protege, and that Eggsy was reading too much into something entirely innocent.

What it meant was that he avoided Harry’s room in the medical wing for two days, finally showing up after Roxy gave him shit about it.

Just walking into the room, seeing Harry sitting up and reading a newspaper, somehow relaxed him. All of the sudden it seemed foolish that he’d been avoiding dropping by in the first place, and he paced over to the side of the bed, holding out a Carmello. “Was going to bring you something stronger, but I figured whisky would fuck with the bloody pain meds.”

“Trust me, anything is better than the swill they’re serving.”

Harry’s tone was dry, but Eggsy had already noticed the change in his demeanor since he’d walked in. Harry was sitting up a little straighter, and as soon as he took the chocolate from him he was unwrapping it, breaking off a square and biting in. Somehow when he ate it the caramel seemed to just string delicately back where it had come from, rather than on his chin or fingers, the way it always did to Eggsy.

“Yeah? Well you’ve been here longer than I have, why ain’t you done nothing about this shit yet? Last time they gave me some sort of fucking gravy that they seemed to think was mashed potatoes. Fell straight through my damn fork.” He shuddered to think of it, but the memory still haunted him. It was unreasonable how bad the food was for those that were injured, especially since the food was otherwise palatable if you had to eat at HQ.

He accepted the next square of the bar with a nod of thanks, popping it into his mouth all at once to avoid the caramel predicament, then absentmindedly licking his fingers.

“Is it the food you were avoiding?” Harry queried, aiming for nonchalant, but Eggsy was pretty sure there was an undercurrent of something else there. His suspicions were confirmed when Harry continued. “I was wondering if I’d somehow managed to scare you off.”

“Please.” Eggsy snorted at the idea as he moved a couple of things off of the nightstand so he could sit, unable to be bothered with dragging one of the chairs over from the corner of the room. “I’m used to you not avoiding bullets by now. I recommend avoiding them, it’s fucking convenient to not get holed up in a hospital bed for days.” 

“I was more concerned that it was my stories that put you off. I am well aware that it’s slightly peculiar in our line of work to tell someone else about our soulmates.” Harry wasn’t looking at him now, eye fixed on the door, the partially eaten chocolate growing sticky as it warmed between his fingers.

“I don’t mind.” The words slipped through his lips easily, because he really didn’t have to think about them. “Actually, I like them. Lyn seemed like a fucking bad as--” he snapped his mouth shut, wishing now that he’d actually stopped to think before speaking, especially when a strangled noise left Harry.

He glanced up, concerned, and that was when he realized the bastard was actually laughing.

It seemed like ages before Harry managed to get himself under control, though in reality it probably wasn’t that long. Long enough for Harry to have to place a hand over where he was bandaged however. “Damn, she’d have enjoyed hearing that. I think she would have liked you.” There was a pause, one Eggsy didn’t know how to fill, or even if he should, before Harry spoke again. “That’s probably why it’s so easy to talk to you about her. Lyn was larger than life. Of course, she normally planned out her stunts, so she was fully aware of the danger, but I think she’d have appreciated how you just throw yourself into things.”

The room lapsed into silence, but it was an easy, familiar sort of quiet, something they enjoyed for quite a few minutes before the one question that Eggsy knew he shouldn’t ask finally succeeded in shoving its way to the forefront of his mind.

“Harry, what happened?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and for the first time he watched Harry close down at something he said, his expression shuttered.

“I think it’s time for my next dose of medicine,” the older man said tersely, pressing the button to call the nurse, and Eggsy wasn’t going to push it.

He did pause at the door however, turning slightly but not enough to actually look at his mentor. “Get well quickly, alright? It ain’t the same without you.”

\-------

It took several missions after Harry was back on his feet before he actually talked about Lyn again. It wasn’t even a full story, merely an observation that she’d hated Guy Fawkes Day, because she hated fireworks, though Harry didn’t explain why.

But in a way the remarks felt like forgiveness, and for the first time in several weeks Eggsy actually slept the entire night through.

When he woke up he changed Harry’s ringtone to _Here comes the rain again_ , then headed off to M&S rather than scrounge for breakfast in his flat.

\-------

He didn’t know how Harry could do it, because just thinking about him being up in some hotel room with the ambassador sickened him. She’d been tipsy, dragging Harry into the elevator with her by his tie, and Eggsy’s stomach had been in knots ever since.

At his request Merlin had muted the volume Harry’s mic would have sent him, telling him in a voice that was far too gentle that he’d unmute it if there was any vital information coming through that Eggsy needed to be aware of, but for now he couldn’t decide which was worse: listening or dealing the with almost crushing silence.

Finally there was the faintest sound of his earpiece coming back online. “Sir Kay, I may require some assistance with this extraction. It seems as though the ambassador has guards posted in the hall. Two of them from what I can tell, but they have earpieces, so there may be others in the hotel.”

“Understood Galahad. I’m two floors below you, so I’ll be up momentarily. Merlin, what’s our quietest option?”

He made his way to the stairs, trying to fight back the sick feeling in his stomach, taking the stairs at an easy pace as he waited for Merlin to get back to him. 

“The stairs are you best option for stealth, they’re taking turns patrolling the floor, but there are corners. Wait for my signal before you exit the stairwell. You’ll want the second door on your left. Let the door click shut, it may get their attention and they’ll go to investigate.”

He did as instructed, briskly walking down the hall to the room indicated, which turned out to be a small supply closet. He had barely made it inside, the door barely cracked open, when the guard moved past his hiding place, intent on the stairwell door. Eggsy focused on silence as he slipped out the door, moving up and aiming a well aimed blow to the back of his head, catching the man before he fell so he could lower him to the floor easily, then quickly stripping him of the radio and earpiece, putting it into his free ear.

“Alright Kay,” Merlin’s voice was back in his ear. “Move toward the end of the hall. On my mark you’ll round the corner to catch the guard at the door’s attention. Galahad, wait three seconds then exit the room. The guard should be distracted, and you should be able to drop him before he raises an alarm.”

Eggsy said nothing, not risking the noise as Harry made a small indication of acknowledgement. Merlin had access to cameras as well as their glasses, he would know when everyone was in position.

On his mark he rounded the corner, easy as you please, the guard jolting when he realized that Eggsy wasn’t his partner, then after a split second raising his weapon.

It was the split second that fucked him over, because Harry was there, knocking the guard unconscious in a disturbingly similar way to what Eggsy had just done, lowering the man and stripping off the ear piece and radio precisely as he’d done, then nodding toward the elevator.

He managed to make it to the elevator, which opened despite neither of them pressing a button, Merlin having taken control and sending it straight to them, bypassing the floors that would simply have to wait for one of the others. But once they were in, the door closing next to him, there was nothing else to focus on _but_ Harry. Harry who looked almost as pristine as usual, except for the fact that his tie was still crooked, and all Eggsy could picture was the Ambassador’s immaculately manicured nails wrapped around the fabric.

That was the only explanation he had for why he reached out, intending to straighten the tie back out, and the next thing he knew he was stepping forward, surging up to the balls of his feet to press his lips against Harry’s.

After a second his brain caught up to his body, his eyes flying back open, and he would have scrambled away if it wasn’t for the fact that just then Harry responded, kissing him back.

It wasn’t perfect. He’d practically attacked Harry’s mouth after all, but that didn’t seem to actually be a problem. It was still somehow the best kiss of his life, and in fact, the kiss was lingering, and it probably would have continued without Merlin buzzing in their ear.

“Find some other time to do this, if I hold the elevator much longer it’s going to become obvious. Plus, you two really need to clear the area. You’ll have plenty of time to work out whatever this is later.”

\------

The only thing about figuring things out later was that it required words, and figuring out feelings, and other things that would have been a lot easier if they’d just spent a few more minutes in the elevator rather than being awkwardly stuck in a car with no idea what to say, then being separated for debriefings. Now it was the next day, and he was no closer to knowing what to say than he’d been in the elevator, and Roxy had been sent to Sterling, so it wasn’t like he could just hop over to her flat to beg for advice.

However, there was one other person he probably needed to tell about this.

He’d only done this a couple of other times, that first time, when he’d come back from the Marines, and when he’d become an agent, but by now there was certain ritual to it. He had access to a car now, but it just seemed right to take a train out, stopping and getting that same cheap-arse bottle of shit he’d snagged the first time, then heading to the florist. The bouquet was larger this time, he could afford better, and she deserved better. Maybe someday he’d be able to look up her family without breaking down, and could find out what flowers she preferred, but for now he let the florist pick out an assorted bouquet, assuring her it was perfect before he headed down the lane toward the cemetery.

It was always a relief to get there and see that the cemetery was actually kept up. There were no weeds daring to grow disrespectfully around her grave, and the headstone was in good condition. He set the flowers down, fussing with them for just a moment before sitting down and cracking open the bottle, needing a swig to get him started.

The alcohol burned as it went down, it was shit after all, and maybe he was fucked in the head to be here in the first place, but it just seemed right.

“Look, I know it’s been a while, but shit just keeps happening, yeah? Got some intel yesterday that should save half of the free world or something like that, so at least I’ve got a good reason. Mostly though I came to tell you about what happened afterwards. I ain’t so sure you’d be happy for me, or if you’d call me a twat for even being here, but that’s always been the problem, ain’t it? I don’t know what you’d think, so I ain’t got no fucking clue if you’d be pleased that I maybe found someone else, or if you’d rather I pined for you forever.

“Fucking hell, even I don’t know if I’m happy about it or not. I mean, he didn’t pull away, but what does that even fucking mean? I could have screwed everything up, he trusted me, and I just risked all of that for a kiss.”

He took another long draught from the bottle, not caring about the burn, and was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “He’s like me you know. Lost his soulmate, but at least he got the chance to know his. Here I am, talking to your grave for fuck’s sake. Just seemed wrong not to tell you. It’s weird, right? I keep trying to tell myself it’s fine cause you ain’t around, but it still seemed wrong not to tell you. I mean, I guess if things were swapped I’d want you to find someone else, so I hope you’re okay with this. And if you ain’t, well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t haunt me or some shit like that.”

In the distance a car door slammed, but he didn’t pay it much mind. He’d said the important bits, and he was young, with a functioning liver. He took another swig, staring at the tombstone and trying to imagine what his soulmate would really think of all this. Probably surprised he’d be interested in a bloke since his soulmate was a woman, probably not surprised at the whole age difference. Roxy was probably right, he’d never realized it was his type but he hadn’t really been attracted to anyone at school. Too immature. And surely his own soulmate would prefer that he go out there and find happiness than mope around at her gravesite, though he still had every intention of coming back every couple of years like he had been.

“What the fuck are you doing.”

He’d been lost in his thoughts, his guard down, and he hadn’t even noticed anyone approaching. So much for fucking spy instincts. But that wasn’t what startled him the most. No, that was reserved for the fact that he recognized the voice speaking to him as he jolted from his thoughts, staring up at the stormy expression on Harry’s face.

“Did you fucking follow me? How long have you bloody been here?”

He scrambled to his feet, surprise replaced with anger. Anger at being seen at the one place where he truly just let go, and anger at himself for not covering his tracks. Fuck, he had a pair of glasses in his pocket in case he got an emergency call. Harry had probably had Merlin track him, the wanker.

“Why would I be following you,” Harry hissed. “How did you find this place to begin with.”

“How else does anyone bloody find anything? I got the address from the fucking registry.”

For the first time since he’d shown up Harry seemed confused, faltering for a second. “The registry?”

“Yes, the fucking registry. You know, that place you go pay to find out you’re all alone in the world. But what I don’t fucking know is why you’re here. Sod off, I ain’t doing whatever it is you want right now.”

“I refuse to leave. I have no idea how you got my personal information from that infernal registry, but I can guarantee that they’ll be receiving a complaint from my lawyer. And you have no right to send me away from Lyn’s gravesite just because you’re pissed. Go home and sort yourself out.”

“What the fuck’re you on about?” His head hurt, and he had been sure the bottle was still full enough that he wasn’t completely smashed, but Harry wasn’t making any sense. “This ain’t Lyn’s grave, this is Elizabeth’s.”” He raised one finger, pointing it at Harry, and finally it all made sense. “You’re in the wrong place, bruv.”

“I assure you I am not, I’ve been coming here for over twenty years. Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison, or, as she preferred, Lyn. She hated her first name, she thought it was ridiculous that they’d actually named her after the queen.”

Eggsy stared at him, not quite believing his ears, blood pounding loudly enough in his ears that he could hear his heartbeat. Harry looked as perplexed as he felt, and after a moment there was really only one thing he could think of to do. He set the bottle down on the ground, then reached for his belt, fingers clumsy as he struggled to get it undone.

That if anything seemed to shock Harry out just standing there. “What on earth are you doing.”

“Just shut the fuck up for a minute, yeah?”

He finally managed it, then had to struggle with the button of his jeans and his zip before shoving his jeans down. “See,” he said, voice triumphant, “a perfect match for the mark on Elizabeth Jocelyn Harrison. Said so on the paper, perfect match. Same size, shape, color, and same location. Inner thigh, right above the knee. I’ve got a right to be here, and you ain’t getting me to leave no time soon.”

It was only after he registered Harry’s silence and looked up to see the man fixated on the mark, that his brain started trying to put the pieces together, because now there was a few pieces of information to work with.

“Harry?”

Wordlessly Harry’s hands moved to his own belt buckle, but his hands were far more adept. In no time flat he had his trousers pushed past his silk boxers, and Eggsy could see an identical mark on his leg.

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Harry’s voice was quiet and raw, and he looked up to meet the older man’s gaze. His soulmate’s gaze. “I’ve heard about people with two soulmates, but I’d never actually met any of them. I didn’t know it was real.”

“You think...no, fuck that, I went to the registry. You didn’t come up.”

“Kingsman agent,” Harry reminded him. “Merlin is good at what he does, I’ve been a ghost in the system for two decades. I wouldn’t have shown up if you didn’t get the information until you were 18.”

“And you’d never check because who would ever think they had more than one.” It all seemed surreal somehow, and he could tell Harry was just as lost as he was right now, but he just couldn’t figure out what to say. 

Thankfully Harry rescued him. “I suppose I should properly introduce you to Lyn then. She kept her name when we got married, she said she’d already perfected her autograph.”

“You got any pictures of her?” Now he didn’t have to disguise the longing in his voice, and he didn’t even have to wonder why it was there. It all made sense now, because it had just clicked when he’d seen Harry’s mark.

“At home,” Harry murmured. “She was obsessed with Polaroids. I’ve got boxes of them stashed away.”

He was still wrapping his head around the fact that he still had a soulmate and he was actually going to get to learn about Eli--Lyn as a throat cleared, and when he finally managed to drag his eyes away from Harry it was to see a very amused looking policeman. “Gentlemen, I’m going to have to request that you put your trousers back on and vacate the premises. You’ve all but scandalized Mrs. Robertson when she put her cat out in the garden. Around here we realize Mrs. Robertson has a bit too much time with her binoculars, but I don’t think this is the place for whatever you’re planning.”

“Of course officer,” Harry replied, and somehow he was already buckling his belt as eggsy scrambled to work his jeans over his thighs. “Please give our apologies to Mrs. Robertson then.”

“Oh, no need for that, but our volunteer firefighter department would love a visit if you’d be willing to help them with next year’s calendar.”

\------

It was surreal being back in Harry’s house. Nothing had changed, but somehow everything was different. It was almost like Harry was seeing it with new eyes as well, because he kept commenting on things. Things that Lyn had purchased, or how she’d made him keep his “creepy” butterfly collection stored away.

For some reason, the fact that Eggsy sided with her, telling Harry that it really _was_ fucking creepy, only made him smile. The small, private smile where Harry tended to glance away, as if somehow that would conceal the emotion.

They ended up having curry delivered, moving to the living room to eat as they shared the couch, sitting close enough to share the photo albums and for Eggsy to occasionally steal bites of Harry’s saag paneer when he was putting something away.

He was picking up a new album as Harry took the trash to kitchen when Harry’s mobile rang. 

“Oi, Merlin’s calling.” He tossed Harry’s phone over to him as the man, his _soulmate_ (and no he was not going to get over that any time soon) walked back into the room, desperate to get the painful bagpipe ringtone to stop, and after a moment Harry pressed the power button instead, cutting the call before looking up.

“My apologies, my hand slipped. Now then, where were we. Oh yes, this was in 1988, when she decided that it was a travesty that we’d never been bungee jumping...”


End file.
